


Skating the Line

by EllaO



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: 2018 Winter Olympics, Alternate Universe - Olympics, Falling In Love, Figure Skater Harry, M/M, Mutual Pining, Olympics, Sassy Louis, Skier Louis, Uptight Harry
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-02-23
Updated: 2018-02-23
Packaged: 2019-03-23 02:15:19
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,740
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13777551
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EllaO/pseuds/EllaO
Summary: Summary: Harry Styles is about to make his Olympic debut in PyeongChang after dominating the men’s figure skating stage for the previous four years. He’s focused on the gold medal and nothing is going to get in his way. Except, he can’t seem to stop thinking about Louis Tomlinson, the charming, hot, flirtatious freestyle skier who took the gold medal at the last Olympics and then promptly came out of the closet.Or, a Gus Kenworthy and Adam Rippon Olympics AU.





	Skating the Line

**Author's Note:**

> I love the Olympics, so this fic was born very quickly. Thanks, as always, to my amazing beta [Nicole](https://oldladyalmighty.tumblr.com/), who listens to all of my story ideas with infinite patience and supports me to no end. I love writing with you. 
> 
> And also, thanks to Gus and Adam for being ridiculously adorable with their friendship.

The first time that Harry learns about Louis Tomlinson, he’s sitting on the roof of his best friend Zara’s house stuffing his face with In-N-Out Burger and crying into his milkshake.

Normally, fast food is strictly forbidden from his diet, but Harry is so bitter about life that he can’t bring himself to care about the thousands of extra calories and carbs that he’s loading into his body as quickly as he can.

“I thought this was our year,” Zara says, sniffing. “I hate everyone.”

Harry bumps her shoulder in solidarity. Zara has a lot of reason to feel devastated about their present situation. She finished third at the US National Ice Skating Championships, and in an incredibly insulting turn of events, the judges had decided not to name her to the Olympic Team destined for Sochi. Instead, they had selected Lauren Christopher, who finished fourth at Nationals.

It must be unbearable to know that your spot on the team was given to someone else. For Harry, the spot on the Sochi team had stayed just out of reach. The men’s competition is stiff and he’d two footed his triple axle. That, combined with a bit of a bobble on his triple lutz-triple toe-triple lutz combination, had been enough to destroy his Olympic dreams and ruin any chance he had of going to Russia.

Competing in the Olympics has been his dream as long as he can remember. He’d voiced it when he was hardly six years old, begging his mother to take him to the ice rink and teach him how to skate. From the moment he’d first made contact with the ice, Harry had known that he was home. He’d spent the next eighteen years chasing his dreams, dedicating every aspect of his life to the pursuit of perfection and working toward his one and only goal of making the Olympic team.

It had been within reach, and he’d fallen apart at the last minute.

“Why is it that I can get so much signal up here I could be a hotspot for the entire fucking neighborhood, but I move four feet to my right in my bedroom and I can barely get Facebook to load?”

Harry looks over at Zara, who’s concentrating on her phone, and frowns. “Don’t watch. I thought we said we weren’t gonna do that to ourselves.”

He and Zara have been avoiding the Olympics coverage. They managed not to watch the Opening Ceremonies or the team skate sessions. It’s been a month since nationals happened and the pain had somewhat dulled, but with all the coverage about Sochi, it feels like every day they’re being forced to relive their disappointment.

“It’s not skating. It’s skiing,” Zara insists, tipping the phone so Harry can see it. They watch a skier jump the gate and careen down a hill, flying over ramps and railings and twisting into the air with grace and poise.

“That looks fucking terrifying,” Harry comments, taking another sip of his milkshake. He feels absolutely sick to his stomach, but he’s determined to eat each and every last calorie that he’s procured for himself.

“People say that when we do jumps,” Zara laughs. She’s put her burger and fries aside and pulls her legs up as she moves closer to Harry.

“Bit different,” he insists. “Where’s the sound?”

She flicks the sound on and increases the volume.

_“_ _And with a final score of ninety-one point four, Markovich’s position is still holding strong. He’s all but assured the Americans another gold with just one skier left. Twenty-two year old Louis Tomlinson is the lone American left to make his final run. He was in the middle of the pack during qualifications and in the first round, so I don’t anticipate that this will majorly alter the medal standings._ _”_

Harry watches with mild interest as the feed shows a few highlights of the previous skier’s run, replaying his jumps from a few different angles. It’s impressive, watching him spin through the air and contort his body.

“ _And now, Louis Tomlinson is ready to take his run_ _.”_

_I think the only question here is if he can land one of the tricks he has in his back pocket. I’ve seen him land a TRICK in practice runs before, but never in competition. If he could lay down a clean run with a TRICK, then that could be a game changer._ _”_

_"T_ _hat’s right. He’s just a hair slighter than the other skiers on the tour and it lets him get massive air on his jumps. He’s really started using that to his advantage._ _”_

The camera cuts back to the top of the hill, zooming in on Louis Tomlinson as he prepares for his run. His ski goggles and helmet are already on, so all Harry can make out is the slender figure of someone on a pair of skis, a pole in each of his hands.

Zara sighs, tucking her head onto Harry’s shoulder. “I think it would be nice to compete without everyone being able to see your face,” she says, giving voice to Harry’s thoughts.

“Seems like it would be easier,” he agrees.

They watch as Louis Tomlinson starts his run, jumping to start cruising down the slope, and he’s going _backwards_. He jumps onto a railing and slides down the length of it, continuing backwards when he jumps off.”

" _Good strong start with a backward motion - easy way to rack up points_ ,” one of the commentators says. “ _Easy five-forty, and onto the next railing - oh, lovely split skis_.”

The commentary makes no sense to Harry, but he’s captivated by the grace of the skier.

“ _Now into the first jump, two flips around - and he lands the cork, still with the backlanding, very nice. Here he goes for the second - look at the air he’s getting! And he lands the cork! Just one more jump left, will he go for three - oh and he lands it! Look at that._ ”

Tomlinson takes a wide arc as he comes to a stop next to the netting keeping the crowd from the course itself. He’s pumping his arms in the air in victory and leans down to unclip himself from his skis, before standing back up and pulling his helmet and ski goggles off.

“Oh he’s cute,” Zara exclaims, pulling the iPhone closer to her face as she squints at the small screen. “Look.”

She shoves the phone back into Harry’s face, moving it around until he grabs hold of her wrist and holds it steady. She’s right - Louis Tomlinson is is cute. With his helmet off, he looks absolutely swamped in all his gear, giving him an even more petite appearance. He has a sharp jaw and his hair is a mess, stubble dusting his chin. He has an absolutely gorgeous smile, which is taking up his entire face as he gives a bro hug to a few of the skiers waiting by the skiing version of the kiss and cry.

“ _And this is going to be a massive score. Only triple we saw on the final runs and he took off from a back position_.”

Louis and the rest of the skiers are all focused on something, waiting for the score to come down. He looks about same age as Harry, but he’s about a hundred times more at ease with being in front of the camera and with his fellow competitors. Even though the camera isn’t picking up on the audio, the group of them gathered together are clearly laughing and teasing each other as they wait for the score, even though the answer might mean the difference between one of them getting a medal or not. Harry can’t imagine having such carefree interactions with his competitors as they wait for scores to be announced.

“ _And it’s in - ninety-five point three. Louis Tomlinson has won the gold medal._ ”

Louis seems to realize it at the same time as the announcer says it, because he immediately leaps into the air and jumps onto the back of the man who’s just won the silver medal. The entire group of them start congratulating each other and screaming in victory, smiles across all of their faces as they high five and hug.

“ _The Americans have swept the men’s freestyle skiing. Louis Tomlinson takes Gold, Andrew Markovich the silver, and Tanner Lawrence earns bronze. What a day for the United States_ _.”_

Harry huffs a laugh, his eyes still glued to Louis Tomlinson’s ecstatic face as he accepts congratulations from his teammates and the other athletes. “Can you imagine sweeping a sport at the Olympics?”

“Sure. If the sport is figure skating and the country is Russia,” Zara laughs. She closes the video and slips the phone into her pocket, sighing deeply.

Harry wraps his arm around her shoulders, pulling her in close. He and Zara have been friends for going on ten years. They train at the same skating club and despite their four year age difference, have been almost inseparable from the moment that they met. He had been rooting for her in the ladies competition at Nationals nearly as much as he had been rooting for himself.

“We can get to Korea,” Harry says, giving voice to the thought that has been building inside him for weeks. It’s what his coaches and everyone else has been saying to him since the team was announced, but this feels like the first moment that he’s really believed it himself.

“I’ll be twenty-two,” Zara reminds him. “I’ll be ancient.”

“So? I’ll be twenty-six,” Harry counters. “Doesn’t matter. We can do it.”

“Harry-”

“We can do it,” Harry insists.

“I’m supposed to start college in the fall.,” she says unhappily.

“That excited about Yale, are you?” Harry's just finished up with UCLA, killing himself to get through school and keep up with his training. Maybe that's why he didn't make the Olympic team, in the end. Maybe his focus wasn't narrowed enough. 

They look at each other, weighing out the possibilities of what the next four years would entail if they fully commit to another cycle of skating. Waking up at five am and and spending the entire day between the rink and the gym, practicing until the feet bleed and going to bed at eight only to repeat the process.

“I’m in,” Zara promises, holding out her hand. Harry takes it and they shake.

“Okay. Pyeongchang here we come.”

**Author's Note:**

> Come chat with me on [tumblr](http://sullensunshine.tumblr.com/).


End file.
